My Sweet Little Jesus
by Renflower21
Summary: Memories of Christmas' past reflected on by Nagato and Konan. Please review!
1. My sweet little Jesus

_Nagato, Nagato, thy sweet little Jesus_

His eyes were shut tight, not that anyone who came across the small boy could tell. His black hair, dark as the very night itself, fell messily over his closed eyes. If he listened carefully, ever so carefully, he could almost hear her kind voice, but a whisper among the cold, harsh wind. _Nagato, Nagato, thy sweet little Jesus_. A warm contrast, that voice in his memory, to the freezing billows of wind. The prickles of the needles of ice raised small goose bumps on his pale flesh. Small flecks of white rested upon his dark hair, pure white against gloomy black. He stood alone, on the perfect layer of snow. The white blanket was unblemished but for a single set of footprints. It was cold, below zero most likely. The wind did not help this any. But Nagato did not mind, he wasn't even there at that moment, it could be said. He was somewhere else…Sometime else…

_Nagato, Nagato, thy sweet little Jesus._

"Nagato, baby, come here please!"

"Yes, Mother?"

She was tall, with a slim waist and perfect hips. Her skin was pale and translucent, as was most of his family. Her cheekbones were sharp and defined, giving her a powerful look to go with her Amazon-like body. Nagato looked up at her face, that of a goddess, his vision of a goddess anyways. He gazed with his inherited hypnotic eyes into hers. Her eyes, the so-called window to the soul, were almond shaped and exotic. Their color was a raven black, deep and soft with emotion. Her hair fell, the color of a crow's feathers, over one eye, spilling down over her slender shoulders. Perhaps the only flaw in this picture-perfect maiden was the slight discoloring of concealed bruises, the scabs that adorned her full and lush lips.

Nagato turned from his beautiful mother as his already sharply honed ears caught the almost silent sound of a nearby presence. He spotted his father's imposing form in the doorway, silently watching. The man's orange hair swept over his rinnegan eyes, which were narrowed as always. A stern man…powerful as well. He was the only man who could frighten Nagato's mother…and Nagato himself.

The young boy felt his hand grasped by his mother's delicate, long fingers. She placed something in his hands, and he looked down to see a porcelain angel. The young boy's eyes widened in curiosity and feverish excitement. He looked up at his mother with admiring eyes, speechless in wonder.

"Mother…what is it?" Nagato questioned quizzically, looking down at the perfect seraph. His mother's lips curved into a smile, so light and adoring. "Why…it's for the top of the tree of course. An angel, beautiful and divine. Someday, maybe you'll find your own angel to stay by your side." She told him with a motherly smile that caused him to smile in return. Warmth filled the small child as his mother's arms wrapped around him. Nagato found himself being lifted up. The five-year-old boy hesitantly placed the porcelain figure on the top of the pine tree. His mother lowered him, so he was held against her endowed chest. Her fingers brushed delicately against his soft skin.

_Nagato, Nagato, thy sweet little Jesus._

"…And so the little baby Jesus was born in a manger, for all the inns were full…" Her lilting voice carried softly as the mother read to the six year old boy who sat expectantly on the ground, looking up at his adored mother with wide eyes, as only a child could gaze.

"Was he powerful? This Jesus guy?" Nagato asked curiously. He watched as his exotic beauty of a mother grinned down at him.

"Why, I suppose he was. But what really made him so amazing and…godlike, was his concern for his people." She said thoughtfully.

Nagato felt an abrupt chill run through him. The hairs on the back of his pale neck stood up. Goosebumps slowly surfaced on his cold, clammy skin, which slowly lost the little color it had retained to a sheet white. The presence of pure fright arriving.

"What are you reading to that boy?" The voice said, low and strong, an icy cold that shot shivers straight through you. That was what he was referred to by his father. 'That boy'.

"A book...just a book. One about Jesus Christ, you know...the son of the god that _I_ worship." His mother replied shakily. Nagato bit his lip, causing pain, but with that calmness as well. His father whipped out his strong hand, knocking the book out of her hands and sending it sprawling on the ground.

"What have I told you about teaching that boy that shit!" He barked. Nagato saw the hand raise again and smack his mother's beautiful face. And then he ran, scampered away like some kind of coward. Like so many times before. He balled up in the corner of his room, knees tight against his chest as tears streamed down his face. His hands were clamped over his ears in a pitiful attempt to silence the noises from downstairs.

That night, several hours later, Nagato silently crept down the stairs and into the family room. There, soft sobs and gentle tears came from the beautiful woman, like so many times before. And, like so many times before, Nagato crawled into her lap and snuggled up against her. Her tears stopped as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

_Nagato, Nagato, thy sweet little Jesus_

Nagato, seven this Christmas, kneeled and looked at his mother's once beautiful face. Sprawled nearby was the body of his father. The strongest man Nagato knew, the center of everything to him, lay drenched in his own blood, eyes staring blankly and lifelessly to the sky. Crimson stained the sheet of white snow with still fresh blood. The sickly smell of death was everywhere, so sickening and disgusting. It overwhelmed him, the stench, and bile rose in his throat, burning and vile.

He gripped his mother's hand, tears now dropping uncontrollably, his small, cold body trembling. His mother turned her bloodstained face towards Nagato. Crimson fluid dripped down her chin from her mouth, her eyes slowly turning cloudy and dead. Her skin was ashen and cold to the touch, already taking on the appearance of a corpse. She, with the small amount of energy left in her, lightly touched his cheek and closed her eyes for the last time.

_Nagato, Nagato, thy sweet little Jesus._


	2. My Beautiful Seraph

_Konan, Konan, my beautiful seraph_

She lay awake in the bed, so large and luxurous. His voice echoed through her head as she tried to sleep. Pein's voice, the voice of her savior. It was an endless mystery to her, both compelling and puzzling. Once a year he said this to her, the only time his cold and emotionless tone changed. Sweet and lyrical, his voice was like a drug to her, addicting and painful, for she could feel the immense pain hidden behind his words. Sometimes she wondered if it was worth it, all the cold nights in bed with him, for that little bit of actual love he showed to her so rarely. But he loved her, that he was sure of.

Konan, Konan, my beautiful seraph 

But a young woman, Konan sat down, wiping snowflakes, so white and chrystalline, from her shoulder-length blue hair. Goosebumps adorned her pale flesh, and her body visibly relaxed as warmth flooded through her. On the floor was a bag filled with stolen food and supplies, so difficult and painful to get ahold of. But it was what Pein had asked for, and she'd obey his every wish. Even on Christmas. Tired and sore, Konan closed her painted eyelids and rested her aching bones, falling into a comfortable sleep.

When she awoke a few hours after, she found on her lap a small box, wrapped with careful precision. Slowly, Konan lifted it, cupping the present gently in her hands, long and slender fingers starting to unwrap it. Silver paper, shiny and thin, fell lightly to the ground. Her eyes, always so tired and lazy, widened, her jaw dropping slightly. Fingers trembling, she picked up the necklace, which lay so gently on white satin. The chain of diamonds sparkled so brilliantly, even in the dim lighting, a rainbow spectrum of color coming from each clear and beautiful diamond, set in what appeared to be pure gold. She held it delicately, as if it might shatter at any moment. She gently unhooked the clasp and placed it around her slender neck.

"Like it?" The voice came suddenly, and Konan quickly turned around in surprise, a slightly guilty expression crossing her face for a fleeting moment. There stood Pein's imposing form, his powerful presence filling the whole room. He strode over to her, admiring the way the necklace looked on her.

"I love it. Pein…" She said softly, wondering why he'd given it to her. Not to mention how he'd managed to obtain such an expensive and rare piece of jewelry.

"It was my mother's." He said, as if he knew what she was thinking. Konan allowed a rare smile to cross her face as she carefully fingered the necklace. A chill ran up her spine as his cold fingers made contact with her smooth and pale cheek. In a second, his lips were on hers, a light and gentle kiss for a short moment before they parted and he gazed into her eyes.

_Konan, Konan, my beautiful seraph._

She stood on the roof of the tallest tower in Amegakure, gazing down below at the vast village beneath. A small flurry of white flakes fell from the dark sky like frozen tears of God. It was amazing how far the village had come in those few short years. Instead of fear and children freezing hungrily on the sidewalk, cheer seemed to replace the spell of poverty. Young children played in the snow, tossing loosely compacted snowballs playfully at one another. A slight smile crossed her face as she heard their squeals of delight, laughter she'd never been able to experience as a child.

Konan almost jumped as an arm was slipped around her slim waist. She looked up and rested her eyes on the heavily pierced face of her savior, of Pein. It was odd for him to be openly showing her affection of any kind like that, and Konan was puzzled by his behavior. She felt his fingers on hers, fumbling with them, and stiffened as she felt coldness slip down her finger. Slowly, carefully, her gaze traveled down and she gasped lightly. For there, adorning her finger, was a diamond ring, shining dazzlingly in the sun. Another extravagant gift. But it wasn't the beauty, the cost that made them mean so very much to her, but the words he uttered after.

"It was my mother's."

The taste she so thirsted for, that amazingly unique texture of his pierced lips overwhelmed her, more deep than he'd ever kissed her before. And for the first time, he went even further, his body intertwining with hers in the darkness for that beautiful night. And when they'd finished, she felt his hand on her cheek once more.

_Konan, Konan, my beautiful Seraph_

Every Christmas was a first. The first time he'd stayed with her all night, the first time he'd fallen asleep with his arms still around her, the beautiful first time he'd told her he needed her. Small things, sure, but for Konan the were everything. They told her he loved her. She hoped this Christmas would be no exception. For this year, she'd gotten him something in return.

"Something wrong?" Pein's tired voice came from beside her. Konan shook her head lightly and turned to face him, gazing deeply into his intense eyes.

"Pein, your mother would be proud of you." Silence fell between them, and Konan worried she'd gone too far. These fears subsided as she felt his hand move to her cheek, the warm feeling so familiar to her flooding her.

"I love you."

She stayed silent in shock for a moment, as if the dream could shatter at any moment.

"I love you, too." The two stayed silent, as if not knowing what else to say, just gazing into each others eyes as she waited for those words she longed to hear, and at last they came.

Konan, Konan, my beautiful Seraph 


End file.
